Are You Real or Just a Dream?
by Molly.Evans
Summary: Cheerio!Kurt, Nerd!Blaine fic. They were on the opposite ends of the spectrum. But one day, one little thing that they have in common. And then everything changed.
1. Invisible

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters.**

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The first day of Blaine's Junior year hadn't started off too badly. Sure, it was only lunch but he had kept his head low, no one really noticed him, no big deal. The only place he stood out in was Calculus, but that's because he was the only Junior in the class. But other than that, he was invisible and he intended to stay that way.

It was better than last year, but hell was easily better than last year.

Last year he came out of the closet. Started wearing his bowties and joined the glee club.

Last year he started getting pushed into lockers, shoved down stair cases, getting slushies thrown on his brand new bowties.

Yeah, invisible was better.

/~/

With his head held high, Kurt Hummel-Hudson strutted down the hallway, leather shoulder bag held close, and Cheerio uniform bright and noticeable.

He wore that uniform the way most models wore Marc Jacobs or Alexander McQueen. It was a symbol of status and power. And Kurt Hummel _owned_ those hallways.

No one would dare lay a finger on Kurt, he was a Cheerio, and not just any Cheerio, he was Cheer Captain. And therefore dangerous. One wrong step, look, or word in his direction could end you up with a face full of an angry Sue Sylvester. And no one wanted that.

It had been his wisest decision by far, Kurt thought to himself sending a slight glare in some hockey player's direction, to join the Cheerios. He could be himself and no one would hurt him. Unlike that poor…oh what as his name…Anderson kid. Yeah, joining the Cheerios was a good move. It gave him protection, status, power, and freedom.

And being able to be out of the closet and not get the shit beat out of him? That was an added bonus.

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It turns out that being invisible is exhausting. By the end of the day Blaine was ready to keel over. All he wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep.

But he wasn't bruised. There weren't cuts on his back and shoulders from the edge of a locker door. He didn't have a wet, sticky, slushy covered shirt in his backpack, and his hair was still gelled down in the way he knew would be harder to grab on to.

He was okay.

He was tired but invisible. He could deal with tired.

/~/

The one thing Kurt hated about Cheerios rehearsals were how incredibly exhausting they were. As he drove home he could feel the soreness start to set in around his thighs. Coach had him doing some crazy flies. He was the only male flier on the squad so in her mind he should be able to do anything and everything…all while singing. In French. Or literally defy gravity, while singing "Defying Gravity" in its proper key and hit the high "F". Whatever it took to win.

Kurt knew he was being used, but the protection he got was worth more to him than that small shred of dignity. He was hot and on top of the food chain, dignity could be recovered and over looked if necessary.

He carried his things into his house, said a quick hello to his father and went to his room. He dropped his school work onto the floor and fell into his bed. He spared a glance to the small pile on the floor.

It was mainly all syllabi to be signed, but as a Senior he was taking calculus, and Mr. Kendrick had assigned actual homework.

His calculus could wait.

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><p><strong>AN: Hi guys! My name's Molly and I'm your author for this fic. I have the next two chapters written, so let me know if you guys want more!<strong>

**TTFN,**

**Molly**


	2. Meanings

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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Turns out tired and invisible are hard to deal with, and make Calculus homework near impossible to do. Which was why at 6:15 in the morning, one Blaine Anderson was hunched over his desk with the lamp on working away. His tongue was poking out between his lips as he forced his sleep addled brain to function properly, and his hands to write numbers and not just scribbles that maybe in the right light could vaguely be understood as some kind of number. With a sigh he dropped his pencil to his desk and grabbed his iPod and played some atrociously loud pop songs and kept himself awake. By 6:45 he was done and crawled his exhausted body into bed. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and rolled onto his side, his body relaxed and he started to drift off…Only to be awaken two minutes later at 6:50 by Maroon 5 loudly singing "Misery".

With a groan he reached over and slammed it off and dragged his hands down his face. The song was once again very accurate, this was Misery. And Blaine just wished it would end.

/~/

Kurt Hummel might be a lot of things, but morning person is not one of them. His day _has_ to start early or he'll never get ready in time. Luckily after two years of rather obnoxious complaints, two a day practices only happened in the summer for the Cheerios. So instead of waking up at four to be ready by five, he was up at six to be ready by seven. There showers to be taken, and skin to moisturize in a precise order at a precise time because Kurt was not getting wrinkles until well into his sixties.

By seven he was trudging down stairs for coffee and a quick breakfast before flying out the door and 7:10 and racing to school. Sure, waking up at 5:45 might make his mornings go a little smoother and he'd be less stressed, but those 15 minutes of sleep were important, and Kurt was rather fond of them.

After wolfing down a whole wheat bagle with a light cream cheese and coffee that tasted more like a dessert than a drink Kurt was gone. He checked his reflection in his rearview mirror. Perfect. Or nearly so. No one could tell he had a small pimple starting just at his hair line, he intended to keep it that way, small and unnoticeable.

Speaking of unnoticeable, he thought to himself as he parked his car, there goes Anderson. Blaine, he corrected himself, Blaine Anderson.

Kurt wondered if it was tiring to be that invisible.

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If Blaine was straight, he could be popular. He could wear his bowties and people would simply think he was quirky, or dapper maybe. But they wouldn't drench him in ice cold slushy every morning.

But the fact of the matter was Blaine wasn't straight. He was gayer than the fourth of July, and he was proud. He was proud that he was comfortable with himself. But that ability to have pride came with a cost. A big one. It meant no friends, just Glee Club acquaintances because being friends with Blaine meant more slushies, fights, cuts and bruises than usual, so who could really blame them? It meant fighting to be invisible, to be semi-safe, to be alive.

It meant watching Kurt Hummel laugh, and smile as he walked down the hallway. It meant hiding his face in a book when Kurt turned to look at Blaine to hide is blush.

Blaine shook his head to himself, pulling another book out of his locker. Being out and proud meant being alone. And more than that it meant that he didn't have a chance with someone like Kurt, so he should get his head out of his ass and study so that way 15 years from that moment he could own them all. And Kurt would be his pretty little secretary, waiting on his beck and call, and hoping, praying even, for a glance in his direction.


End file.
